poetry has been making me anxious lately, but here’s an “”””experimental”””” poem i wrote last winter for a class. it was published in @uprootmag a few months ago & it features lines from In The Pines/Where Did You Sleep Last Night. more poems are coming soon, hopefully // #poetry#poetsofinstagram
Complacency is the product of not being brutally honest with ourselves about WHERE we are, and WHERE we want be. -
We get comfortable 🛋
We get distracted 📲
And we lose sight of what we are sacrificing for & why it matters. -
🙏🏼Stay tuned...my next video will dive deeper in HOW and WHY we must do what ever it takes to manifest what we desire most.
Spot the Aussie who is always twelve hours behind (well actually in front 😜) of everyone else participating in these loops! My name is William and I am writing a historical gothic fiction novel set during the late 18th century.
I would love to meet fellow writers and readers, especially of historical fiction (gothic or not), which so far seems to be a rather minority genre online.
Looking forward to connecting with you!
Are you, too, trapped? Do you feel entangled, wrapped in the unmapped territory of your half-written story? Unsure if you are headed toward disaster or glory? Perhaps thats why we like books so well, within the woven spell of words both absurd and profound, there is bound to be a secure and tidy end. A perfect pretend. Its easier to expend the energy of our attention when we rest assured of a happily ever after penned at the end of that last chapter. But this aimless, unsure, ever flowing river of unknowing often threatens to drown even the strongest souls in plots too thick to swim through, dreams too wild to aspire to. Is it so much to want for an oar of certainty? I'd sing you an ode to clarity but it may only serve as a siren song of despair, for hope bubbles over but happy endings are rare, so take care, so few things in this life are fair. All I can offer is an assurance of solidarity-most of us are lost. Lets at least wander together.
1) rushing to merge into the highway to make it on time to my first faculty meeting; tori kelly's “sorry would go a long way” and of course, i am a mess 2) lost a brand-new pen during the 6 hour meeting and was seriously distracted by this 3) sighing and reflecting on my own parochialism throughout; i am but a tiny human just trying to get by the day with myself onboard 4) finally reunited with my beloved car; i will take good care of you 5) need to breathe and meditate, stay organized and centered so that all the countless new things in my life do not overpower or affect my relationship with myself and with others 6) hopeful for a restful sleep tonight
I hope you’re reading this because you need to hear this story. You know my obsession with numbers. You know I don’t think it’s coincidental (or delusional) that I see and hear 33 more than the average person. I also see and hear the numbers of your birthday more than I’d like to. I thought about you and us last night, and these words seemed to be a perfect description. just now, I put it on the design app, and just as I was downloading this post, the clock was one minute short of your birthday. the downloading queue was going pretty fast, and so I didn’t think it would have downloaded on the clock time of your birthday. But that’s when the unthinkable happened. My laptop froze. Or the connection stalled. Or the universe glitched for five seconds, and just as it downloaded; the time, almost in perfect synchronicity, changed. i read your birthday numbers on the clock just as I wrote and downloaded this poem. That is how I know people can relate to this. That is how I know I couldn’t have described my feelings together and apart more perfectly. That is how I know you feel the same way. Hope you’re doing well. ~ dan